Watch Out For The Cat
by Triss Kelion
Summary: Her family has abandoned her. She needs a new role, new way, new life. Sunnydale left behind, she becomes something new, something more. Watch her meet the Bat. Watch her become Selina.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any right to Buffy the Vampire Slayer tv series or Catwoman the comic book. I make no profit out of this fanfic.

Chapter 1.

A small hand runs up one leg, leather shoe zipped up, clinging tightly. Then the other shoe. She's almost ready. The top of her cat suit is still unzipped and she carefully places a set of lock picks under her bra in between her breasts. She zippers up and stretches like a well rested cat. She's nimble and every muscle is well trained. Eagerly she slips her hair under its protective cowl. Only the goggles left and she'll be ready. The whip is already attached to her waist. She surveys the room, brushes past Kitty the cat patting her lightly on the head. The disgruntled cat flickers her ears and her tail swishes as if saying 'go already and stop bugging me'.

The woman lets a little snort out and picks up a spreadsheet from the desk. The route's been memorized , her notes as well. Excitement flows through her and she finally puts the goggles on.

The balcony is opened and the night awaits. She jumps. For a moment it feels like she's jumping to her doom, into a portal of lightening and power so vast it's hard to comprehend, but soon a different feeling overwhelms her and she's free. Her whip cracks and she lands smoothly on the next roof.

A couple of quick steps and she jumps again. Less of a fright now. It's joy that flows through her; she's free. Again she lands, only to eject herself in the air, and again. Every night it's the same, old hurts being shed away and finally she is just herself. Without pressure, expectations, remorse. She smiles. This is the roof.

She crouches down, observes her target. Her route is just as she planned, no complications, no changes. She observes as the guards talk, exchange pleasantries. She smiles a little as the new one settles down in his little cubicle, the old one is leaving the building. The new, younger one takes out a book and doesn't look twice at the monitors before him. He's studying for tomorrow's exam.

She laughs a little at how badly the building is designed, letting her observe it all though the windows. She mentally shrugs; it's her gain. She jumps on a fire escape one floor down. From there across and onto a roof. Quietly now, in the shadows, onto a drain pipe and to the ledge. She's small and light and her steps very sure.

She inches forward, glances into the window. No one there. She moves forward, to the next window. No one there either. Her whip flies up, catches on a pipe and she flings herself up one floor. This is it. Only one wall separates her from the guard and she barely suppresses an excited giggle.

The window is partially opened. It leads to a bathroom. She carefully pushes her hand into the crack between the opened window and the frame. She's lucky she's so thin but it would be even better if her arms were longer. She's prepared for this so she takes a piece of a wire from inside her shoe and gives it the needed shape. It catches the blockade and carefully she pulls, it gives. There. She enters silently, takes a look around, catches herself in the mirror and straightens out her suit. Purrfect.

There are no cameras in the bathroom. Just beyond this door things are different. She wonders if she wants to bother with the cameras. The guard is reading, likely won't notice and if he does it would hardly be a feat to get past him. But does she want to be caught on film? She pulls open a pocket and takes out a small disk. Attached to the lenses of the camera it should blur the video.

Satisfied she zippers up and slowly, so very slowly, opens the door. She checked the hinges the other day and it shouldn't squeak but the motion might get noticed. Observing she waits for the right moment, slips out, hugging the wall. She moves to the corner, under the camera. She's too short to reach it while standing. She jumps up and her feet find purchase on the walls, her back hugging the ceiling. She breathes out in relief. There. The little circle attaches itself to the camera with a click. She feels even freer now.

Down and towards the next room, this area is only separated by a partial wall. She moves forward. She doesn't hear anyone else near. Sometimes she feels like she's cheating with her enhanced senses.

She crouches before the final door. Unzipping the suit she takes out the lock picks. Carefully she inserts one and listens in, a click and another. She turns the handle. She pauses; there is a camera there. She takes note of her trembling hands and slips in a small mirror on a wire. She moves it around. The camera is right on the opposite wall. Nothing to do about that now. Exhale, push the door, move in.

Two steps in there is a glass case. She opens another pocket. Takes out a glass cutter. She cuts a circle and gently pulls it out. There are pressure plates inside and her heart is beating like crazy now and she can't help but smile.

Carefully she places a stone on her hand and moves it in the opening. Slowly with her thumb and forefinger she grabs a hold of the little statuette inside meanwhile lowering the stone right next to it on the plate. Keeping the balance she times it just right and when she finally picks up the little cat no alarm blares. She grins and slowly takes her hand out of the case.

The cat goes into her pocket. There is no time now. She moves back to the previous room, closing the door behind her. She backtracks to the camera and takes off the blurring device. Back to the bathroom and out the window. It's not done yet. On the ledge, she risks a look to the room next door. The guard almost finished his coffee. She swings one floor down, on the ledge and moves by the window, pulls herself up and there's a small window. She needs to get into this storage room and pronto, before the guard goes to the bathroom.

The window is stuck and she has to push hard. Slayer strength hard. It gives. There's barely enough room to slip through but she's thin and manages alright. Her feet land gently on the ground. There is not much space to move here as she sits close to the door and waits. Listening is boring but she calms herself down patting the pocket with the little cat. Hers now.

Sometimes the stealing makes her think of Dawn, but not this time. She doesn't want to be noticed, it's not the same.

She watched the guard for days and knows it won't be long now. Indeed, barely minutes later she hears the tell tale sounds of a guy stretching on a chair, putting a book down, cursing at the boredom of his job and moving towards the bathroom.

She counts to ten and opens the door. No guard in sight. Quickly she runs lightly to the guards cubicle and starts typing. The recording program opens up and she locates the files of the second camera. She finds 11:23, that's it, up to 11:32. She can't help herself and takes a peak at it in fast forward. It strucks her that a slip of her hair escaped her cowl while she was scooping out the cat statuette. The blond lock seems out of place against her black suit and dark goggles. She erases the part with her in the starring role. Closes the program and slips out and back into the storage room. She doesn't close the door, there is no time as the guard passes by. A click of the closing door would be too loud.

For a moment she looks at the handle and wonders if closing it slowly would be possible. Beyond this door there are no walls separating the guard from here, only the thin cubicle separators.

Heart racing she turns toward the small window. She almost gets stuck because of the statuette but carefully she pushes through.

No need to close the window. She doesn't mind if they know how she got there.

Follow the ledge and down on the next building's roof. Now she's smiling wildly but reminding herself not to count her chickens yet. Across the roof and jump. The wind is colder now but it only makes her feel more awake.

She jumps and jumps, it's almost like flying. The distance seems quite enough to rest. It's done now. She stretches out satisfied, almost purring. Relaxed she takes a winding route back to her own balcony.

The next day Miss Selina Kyle buys a hair dye. She's a brunette now. It suits her and most importantly doesn't stand out so much against the dark. Her green eyes already search for a new target.


	2. Chapter 2  Anne

Chapter 2

She wasn't always Selina Kyle. That is not her birth name, but it is her true identity. She took her mother's maiden name and her grandmothers given name. It doesn't feel borrowed anymore, it feels like her own.

That first night after leaving Sunnydale she found herself in a strange place. Buffy Summers had no place to go. Buffy Summers didn't have life beyond slaying anymore. And even that role has been taken. She wasn't the only one, the chosen one, she was the one thrown away.

She's bitter about it and pushes those memories away. She decides to try to find her father, her last link, her last tether.

Pure luck that she had just enough money for a bus to LA and a hotel room for one night. Pure luck that while walking restlessly through the night she saves a private detective from becoming vampire food. The poor guy is shaken and insists he'll buy her a round at Salinas. She doesn't want to go to a bar but he clearly needs the drink.

Perhaps had she know he was an ex-cop she'd have been more wary. As it is she looks at his honest face, at the wrinkles around his eyes, laugh lines and worry lines, grey hair and kind eyes that had seen too much and decides to go along for now.

He's about Giles' age but there's nothing Giles like in him. His hair is brown, his eyes grey, there's nothing reminding her of Xander or Angel and she finds comfort in that. He smokes, he curses, he drinks. He's gruff but his heart is in the right pace.

She wonders if going to Angel is an option but the bitter inner Buffy reminds that he too abandoned her. She's barely holding it in and before she knows it she breaks down on the poor PI's shoulder after he calls her his guardian angel.

'I'm a Slayer.' She explains, thought he doesn't recognize there's a capital letter there, 'I kill the monsters. I'm a killer not an angel.' She sniffs and looks nothing like a monster and he gently holds her as she cries.

'I know of vampires, ' he says, 'and demons. You're a hero, not a monster.'

But she doesn't feel like a hero, she feels like she's a screw up and a fraud. She doesn't want to talk about her old life.

'I don't have anywhere to go. They threw me out. I screwed up and they threw me out.' She mumbles.

She doesn't even think about the mistakes her friends themselves made or remember that technically it was her own house and they had no right. She feels like she deserves it. She's tired. The barman looks at the two customers sitting at the farthest table in the bar and can't shake the feeling of pity. He brings over the crackers and keeps refilling their bowl. The girl eats a lot even thought she looks like a drown little kitten.

It doesn't take the detective long to figure out the basics. After all putting the clues together is his job. She's alone and betrayed and completely lost.

Samuel 'Slam' Bradley decides to take care of the girl. It's the least he can do for saving his life. Soon he's on the case, looking for the missing Hank Summers while Buffy works as a barmaid at Salinas. She goes by Anne now.

-o-

There are no leads here in LA and Slam doesn't run his business from here. He wants to leave, move back to Gotham. Anne is uncertain, she seems on edge. It's been two days and suddenly the news announce a disaster in Sunnydale. Anne can't stop herself from looking at the TV. Her expression is pained and Slam tries to distract her.

The next day she can barely concentrate on work and the manager and barman in one rethinks if giving her the job was a good idea. Before he can decide whether to fire her or not Anne announces she's leaving.

'I tough you wanted to stay here for a while longer.' Says Slam. He takes out a cigarette and lights it up in frustration. 'Okay, okay.'

He wanted to leave anyway. Anne has stopped looking at the TV. The last report showed a group of last survivors riding in a bus. Some were blurry but some were recognizable enough to put Anne in tears.

'They're coming here.' She mumbles. She doesn't feel safe in LA.

They're on the next bus to Gotham.

-o-

The ride is long and Slam smokes a lot, frustrated by the lack of room for his long legs and his cramping back.

He makes a mistake of letting Anne drive out of the city and they almost get stopped by the cops.

'You don't have any documents on you.' He reminds.

'Yeah,' she mumbles subdued again and he wants to kick himself. He makes note to himself to let her drive on the highway.

Anne knows she's causing him more problems than she's worth. Her lack of papers and any money don't make anything easier. They can't take a plane. She doesn't want to ask for reissue of her driver's license. She doesn't want anyone to follow her trail.

She lights up a little on the highways. She loves driving and Slam is more than happy to sleep through most of it. She has far more energy than him. To stop herself from thinking about her problems she listens to Slam's audio books. Detective novels, figures.

When both are awake they talk a lot. It's not destiny and end of the world talk and it's refreshing. She lets him coddle her for now but vows to herself to repay him later.

Sometimes they talk of the supernatural but she doesn't drop names, no: slayer, Angelus, the Master. It's all vague but he's a smart guy and figures out not to push.

They stop in rarely frequented places, a little bit off the path and Anne sometimes goes out hunting. He follows her the first two times. The second almost ends in his death. Who knew demons could vanish and reappear out of nothing? He realizes that he hasn't imagined her strength and the speed of her reflexes during that first encounter. He tries to hide his amazement and his curiosity but she sees right through him. They know each other's mannerisms far better than they would have expected after such a short time.

It takes them a month to get to Gotham. They're not in a hurry. Slam still has no leads on Hank Summers and Anne is slowly creating a new identity for herself.

There' s not much left of Buffy in her. Not the cheerleader, not the chosen one. With Slam driving she explores various national databases. Not all of them allow her access and Slam gives her some pointers on finding what she's looking for. She can't find anything on Hank Summers. Last address leads to Spain, Barcelona.

-o-

It comes up he's an ex police officer and she fidgets nervously after that revelation. She relaxes a little once she finds out not all his information gathering methods are entirely legal.

Slam is a surprisingly patient teacher and soon she helps him in locating basic information for his clients' searches. He has a couple cases opened that he hopes to finish as soon as he gets to Gotham. He doesn't say it out loud but Anne is fairly sure he doesn't have money lying around.

The next town they stay in is bigger. There's an old cemetery with a couple big catacombs and an abandoned house. Anne disappears without a word and comes back, tired, bruised and bloody but smiling. She hands over an antique statuette and some jewelry.

'We can find a pawn shop in the next town.' She explains.

Slam is fairly sure it's dead demons' and vampires' stuff but when he asks she only replies,

'You know I never got paid for my job. Night after night and nothing of it.' She has a faraway look now but it's not as sad as before. She notices him starring and smiles. Not a wide smile but a genuine one,

'It was exciting.' She laughs a little, 'They even had security system there.' With a snort she explains it was a magical circle that protected only against other demons. There was also a brick wall she had to punch through.

He looks at her curiously and becomes lost in his thoughts. She blushes a little, embarrassed

'It wasn't theirs to begin with.' she points out, eyes a little wary.

'Remind me to teach you to pick locks.' He responds smiling conspiratorly, 'I have a feeling you'll like it.'

-o-

The next day they get ready to go to a pawn shop. The jewelry is piled in her lap and she looks like a kid in a candy store. Playing with necklaces and rings she asks,

'Is this a ruby?' question after question as she marvels at the treasure. It's not that much, just five necklaces, a couple of rings and a statuette.

'Let me see.' Slam takes the stone gently in his hand.

He gives a grunt of confirmation.

'How do you know?' she asks.

'The cut, the polish, the way the light catches.'

She looks curiously at the pile and while she separates it in two Slam takes out his laptop and finds an appropriate webpage to answer her questions. He gets ready for travel while she reads on, fascinated.

'Why the two piles? Keeping one?' he asks pointing at the jewelry at her feet. Anne shakes her head. 'Not really, but these here', she motions to the pile on her left, 'feel icky.'

'Icky?'

'Demony or dark magic kind of icky.' She explains.

He looks closely. 'You think they're dangerous?'

'Maybe. I was thinking about getting some holly water to test it..'

He raises his eyebrows.

"I'll bring some breakfast and go by the church.' He picks up his jacket, puts it on and on his way out ads, 'Try to figure out the values of this stuff so we don't get cheated at the pawn shop.'

It feels like a challenge and Anne is eager to try. The stones that reek of magic probably would pay more if they visited a magic shop but she doesn't want to bring attention to herself and rejects that idea right away.

She looks closely at each piece and compares to the pictures on the internet. She's not sure how to test the metal or the stones properly to know which category they are.

She starts with the ruby necklace. There' one big stone at the center and several smaller ones. She's willing to bet the chain is gold and that the small clear stones in between the smaller rubies are diamonds. She's caught in admiring it and she's barely finished with the first necklace when Slam comes back with food. He's holding a bottle of holly water in his hand, feeling a little awkward.

She smiles and he grunts and they grab the food while one by one they dump the jewelry into a bowl of holy water.

Anne is not surprised to see small wisps of black smoke lifting from the surface. Slam keeps his distance until the reaction subsides. He waits a beat and picks up the pieces one by one.

He points out the little details to her, explaining that this shows age, this is a sign of a flawed stone, this one is clear, this is not quite as valuable as it was when made as the stones became more common.

They estimate the value at about two thousand. Anne is grinning widely and can't keep her hands from going over each piece. Slam picks the smallest pendant, a tiny jet cat the size of his thumb nail. It has tiny emerald eyes, the chain is silver.

'You should keep something.' He says.

Anne wants to protest but she spots what he's holding and can't help but smile. It's the smallest piece and yet .. it's the only one of the bunch she'd feel comfortable wearing.

She takes the pendant from him and looks it over carefully. It's beautiful.

'Think of it as part of your payment.' Slam coaxes.

She likes that idea. She's always liked jewelry but never had much chance to wear any. There was that ring that she'd rather not think about and the cross. This is different, this she got on her own; no painful memories will be attached to this pendant. She puts it on.

Slam notices one statuette to the side. This one was not put in the water.

'What's that?'

'It doesn't have demony vibes,' Anne explains. 'but it feels powerful.' She hands it to him gently.

The statuette is about the size of his hand. It's an ivory cat, with emeralds for its eyes. Little emeralds run down it's spine while on the front there is a golden inlay inscription in what looks to be hieroglyphs.

'This looks expansive… if it's genuine.' He turns it over in his hands, weighting it, bringing it closer to his eyes. 'It does look genuine.'

'It feels genuine.' Corrects Anne and he raises his eyes to her form the statuette.

'The power, I think, is that of Bastet.' She explains.

'The Egyptian cat goddess.' Says Slam, 'I see.' He's not very comfortable with the talk of magic and gods. He picks up the keys to their rental car and motions for them to get going.

Anne smiles, aware of his discomfort, she doesn't continue the subject. Packing their little treasure pile she makes sure to separate Bastet from the rest. She has a feeling they won't be able to sell it.

The things go well at the pawn shop thought they decide to only sell the least expensive looking pieces and leave the rest for a bigger town, like Gotham. A sell too big would bring attention. They manage a thousand and two hundred with all four rings and two necklaces.

It's another two stops afterwards that she finally decides on a new name.


	3. Chapter 3 Selina

Chapter 3

It's another two stops afterwards that she finally decides on a new name.

They're sitting outside. Anne is frowning slightly, her hand playing with a pack of matches. Slam exhales, enjoying his cigarette.

'You'll kill yourself.' Says Anne,

'Everyone dies.' He smirks.

There's nothing new in this exchange, they've said this words on many stops before.

'I've died before.'

'You mentioned that.' He answers.

'Twice.'

He turns to her frowning, 'You skipped that part.'

'They brought me back a couple months later.' She says quietly. They both know who 'they' refers to. 'I was happy there.'

He's not quite sure what to say, torn between marveling at the kind of power her ex-friends posses and being outraged at their gall to meddle in the natural order of things. He looks at her and wonders just how long she has been this broken.

He points at the little necklace around her throat,

'Then it's your fourth life.'

She looks down and her hand comes up to her necklace. The little cat feels warm in her hand. 'Third', she argues.

'No, this is a fresh start.' He says with conviction, 'It's your fourth life.'

Anne lets go of the cat and picks up the matches.

'You know I had a grandmother named Celine.'

He's not sure where this came from, frowning he turns to her and catches her starring at the matches. The package has 'Salinas' written on it.

He grunts not sure what to say.

'She loved art, paintings, books, stuff like that. She always made sure to encourage her kids to do whatever they felt was right for themselves, not to let anyone else dictate their life. Her family disowned her, you see. She didn't marry who they wanted her to marry.'

'Ah.' He realizes the connection now.

'Celine then?' he asks.

'Close but no cigar,' she smirks, 'Selina. Selina Kyle.'

'Where did 'Kyle' come from?'

'Her husband's surname.' She smiles again, 'They had this awesome love story.'

'Awesome?'

'Yeah. Fell in love. Went against her family. Got married. Had kids. Died one year apart. Awesome.' She's still smiling but it's teasing. He can't help but snort.

'Epic, even.'

They take her picture in the next town and upload it. Slam contacts some shady guy who owes him, does a little hacking and next town over there's a shiny new license for one Selina Kyle waiting at the post office. She stopped dyeing her hair blond awhile back and it looks far darker than she's used to in this new picture.

They don't stray far from the truth in creating her new life story. She's still from California, born and raised there. They remove Hemery High and Sunnydale from her history. A fresh start has to get rid of the paper trail that burning the gym left, that being suspected of Kendra's murder left. Bit by bit she fills him in on her true life history and the less lies there are between them the more she allows herself to detach from her old life. She's admitting it all for one last time, shedding the burden.

Her mother is one Maria Joyce Kyle, her father unknown. Most documents went missing when San Diego where she lived was submerged. Slam chooses the schools that did not have a backup of their documents online.

Her paper trail is a little bare but not unlike what she would have from Sunnydale. Slam makes sure to add college classes and fake transcripts of the similar courses she had at UCS. Perhaps one day she'll want to finish college.

They're a day away from Gotham and Selina is mostly smiling and bouncing in excitement. She's never been there before. Selina drives far more than Slam now. He has to admit that she only needed practice to balance out her superhuman reflexes and the car's reaction times.

He only fears she's going to keep getting speeding tickets. She definitely loves driving fast.

The town they stop at is slightly bigger than they're used to. Selina is a little nervous and Slam takes her to a bar. Unlucky for him and lucky for her the bar has a couple of vamp patrons. Selina has been hoping for a little slaying. She would like to remove that part of her life entirely but knows that's not possible.

They sit down and chat and Selina observes. Slam is not slow and picks up on it before his beer is gone.

'Don't tell me there are v-'

'Shush.' She cuts him off. She's not looking at him but knows he has that disgruntled look on his face. Any minute now he'll start smoking.

Slam takes out his pack of cigarettes and she smirks.

'What?'

'Nothing.'

'You should work on your innocent voice, it's not quite working.' He lights up his cigarette and Buffy decides to make her move.

She moves closer to the better dressed vamp. For the last ten minutes he's been chatting with a girl at the bar, buying her drinks.

Selina doesn't walk straight over to him, but stays to the side, slowly edging closer. Finally standing next to him she moves her nimble fingers to his back pocket where his wallet sticks out enticingly. Slayer reflexes certainly lend themselves well to this kind of work. Just as she finally frees his wallet and hides it in her jacket she raises her eyes only to be caught in the gaze of the other vampire. He looks amused and she quickly pushes down the slayer in her. She gives him a little smile going for sheepish, charming look. She breaks away from the bar and moves towards the bathroom. Her target is still oblivious and she'd rather keep him that way.

Just as she hoped, the other vampire follows her down the hall. She goes in, counts down the appropriate amount of minutes and with a stake in hand opens the door.

Adrenaline running high, for a split second it seems there'll be a disaster -she almost stakes a human who pushes past her in an obvious need to get to the toilet, and fast. Her heart races and she notices her vamp loitering nearby. His eyes swivel to her just as she takes a step closer. With her next step his eyes dart lower and notice the stake. It's all slow motion to her now. His eyes widen, her hand moves forward . He raises his arm and his face changes. She's faster thought and there's dust in the air only a second later.

The sounds of the people just down the hall come streaming to her ears, she shakes off the predator and moves towards the sitting area.

She ponders for a moment which gave her a bigger rush of the adrenalin- the staking or the stealing. She's not sure. Further testing should be done. She smirks to herself.

She angles towards Slam who she notices is searching for her with his eyes, looking a little strained.

'What was that?' he asks. 'The guy who followed you-'

'Vamp staked.'

'The guy at the bar. Why-'

'Vamp.'

He ponders that, looking at her shrewdly. 'Why steal from him?'

'They turn to dust when staked and all their possessions with them.' She answers. ' I sometimes lose my stakes this way too.' She mumbles a little sheepish. She is a stake shorter right now.

'You're going to take care of him ?'

'Yeah, later.' She answers reaching for some crackers.

'Rather sooner.' He says pointing behind her.

She swivels in her chair and notices the vamp taking his girl outside.

'She a vamp too?' asks Slam.

She shakes her head. 'You've got a pencil?'

He knows better than to question her when she's in this hunter predator mode. He reaches into his jacket and hands over a pencil. She looks at it dubiously.

'You've got one that is not automatic?' she asks.

'Oh.' It finally dawns on him and he passes her his other pencil, a wooden one.

Selina disappears through the door, pencil in hand. Slam almost gets up to follow but doesn't want to raise any suspicion. She can handle a single vamp.

She's back a minute later. Cheery and not at all winded.

'Went well?'

'Yeah. Fun was had.'

It's not until they're in the car that she reaches for the wallet and looks it over. The money isn't much but what makes her pause are the personal photos inside. She hasn't expected that. Not from a vampire. She's a little dubious if these are his pictures; this wallet probably belonged to some other poor shmuck who become vampire food.

Selina keeps looking at the photos and frowning. Steeling wallets is perhaps a little too personal. She still draws her line on stealing from humans. Taking someone's treasures, like that first loot is something else. Like a game. She smiles, while fingering her cat necklace. This, she doesn't mind at all.

-0-

He lets her stay In his apartment in Gotham, in his guest bedroom. She curiously surveys his house. There are photos there. His ex wife, his son, his friends. She's a little jealous and a little sad – her own family feels distant and alien. The next day she finds her own picture has joined the collection. There's some rethinking to be done; some families are not based on blood after all.


End file.
